Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I close my eyes. They don’t know what I’m doing, but I better hurry up or they will think I’m pooping, which embarrasses me for some reason but at the same time shouldn’t matter at all. Everyone poops.
Finally, I’m able to go, and I count to five then pull the test out, recapping it and watching the little white screen darken. The instructions say to wait three minutes before looking at the test. I count to ten and look.
The blue test line pops up right away. There is nothing next to it. I relax. I’m not pregnant, see? I knew it and now I can go home and stop worrying. In fact, I’m sure my period will start tomorrow and I’ll laugh at myself for all this anxiety.
I’m about to throw the test in the little metal trash when I look at it one more time.
Holy fucking shit balls. Is that a second line?
No. No, no, no.
I bring the test closer to my face. I see a faint shadow. But it’s not a line. So I’m not pregnant, right? I close my eyes and count to thirty again. It hasn’t quite been three minutes, but I look again anyway.
There is definitely something there, making a little plus sign. If I am pregnant, the line would be bright like the test line, right? Crap. I don’t know these things.
There is one more test in the box. I’m about ready to rip it open and take it when I remember that I just went pee. Double crap. I’ve never wanted to have to pee more in my life than I do right now.
But I need to know.
I stash the possibly positive test in my purse and leave the bathroom, going into the little cafe. I order a blue Slushy and a big pretzel. Both actually sound good, and the smell of butter and salt makes me hungry. I nibble on the pretzel, so nervous I can hardly eat.
I do a bit of online research while I gulp down the Slushy. It seems that tests with blue lines can have an “evaporation line” that gives the illusion of a positive test. Pink line tests are a bit more reliable, and the digital ones are fool proof. Also, chugging something like I’m doing now can dilute the pregnancy hormone and give you a false negative. I should test again in the morning.
Though, there is no fucking way I can wait that long.
I finish my pretzel and drink, and get up. I take my bag to the car, then go back inside, praying I don’t run into anyone I know. I don’t waste any time. I get another basket and head to the personal hygiene aisle.
I end up spending seventy dollars on pregnancy tests. I clutch the white shopping bag to my chest as I walk to my Jeep, heart in my throat. The drive home stretches forever, and I’m crawling out of my skin when I get stuck by a train. I’m such a wreck that I don’t even listen to music.
Finally, I get into the house, let the dogs out, and put the boxes of tests on the counter. Each came with two, oh—this one has a bonus so three!—and I take one out for now, saving the other for the morning.
I take the used test from my purse, lay it on a napkin, and scrutinize it. Like any sane person would do, I take a picture with my phone then play with the color contrast to see if that’s a line or just as shadow of where a line could be.
I come up undecided.
There is nothing to do but wait and test again. I try to do my normal routine, play with the dogs, shower, make a lunch for tomorrow, that sort of thing, but I keep going back and looking at the one test like it might change. Not knowing if it’s actually positive or negative is driving me up the fucking wall.
About an hour and a half later, I’m staring at a counter full of tests. I flipped them all upside down, not wanting to look at them until the full amount of time has passed. On some level I know this is crazy, taking so many tests. I can’t believe I spent so much on them all. I should have gotten the expensive digital one from the start and would have known one way or the other without analyzing every little shade of blue.
I’m sure I’m not the only one, and I know there have been countless women on both sides of the fence desperately wanting to know if there is a tiny life force inside of them or not. But I have to know. One way or the other, I’m finding out. I check the time. Five minutes have passed. I stand and slowly walk the two feet from the edge of the tub to the sink, feeling like it’s D-Day.